


close your eyes, count to seven. (when you wake, we'll be in heaven)

by okayparker



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-09-22 15:26:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17062328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okayparker/pseuds/okayparker
Summary: Tony knows that the worst pain isn't the throbbing, the aching, the burning. It's not the stabbing, the slicing, or the breaking.It's seeing someone else in pain. Someone you love.The worst pain that Tony Stark can possibly imagine is seeing Peter Parker, screaming. Screaming for help, for him, and not being able to do a single thing about it.





	1. Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> So this is my first fic on here, I've written a bit in other places but I've never actually even put something out there for someone to read. I'm happy to finally share my writing but also a little nervous, but I guess we'll see how this goes :)
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~ S

 

Peter was cold.

  
  


The floor his cheek rested on was cold. The air around him, that he breathed into his lungs and out in bursts of white, was cold. Even the blanket that he could feel covering about half of his body was cold.

  
  


Peter was  _ cold.  _

  
  


As he began to come more to his senses, he started to realize the reason behind his lack of body heat. He was in a room, made of  _ cold,  _ grey, concrete. He was also on the floor, with just a thin cotton blanket half tucked underneath him, the other half only somewhat covering his legs. On top of that, he was wearing only boxers. Peter looked down at himself to see goosebumps rising on his bare chest. Quickly, he rubbed his hands up and down his arms, trying to generate any kind of heat because it was just  _ that cold.  _

  
  


A groan from across the small room had Peter jolting his head up in a split second.

  
  


_ He wasn’t alone.  _

  
  


Just a few feet away from him, a figure lay curled up on their side. A man, from what he could tell, although they were facing away from him. Short black hair, clothed in what looked like an undershirt and,  _ dress pants? _

  
  


The man gave another quiet sound of discomfort, and rolled onto his back, eyes fluttering open in the slightest. Peter sucked in a sharp breath, and scrambled to his knees, not knowing if he could trust his legs to carry him.

  
  


“M’sr Stark,” he mumbled, finally realizing who the man was, and blaming his foggy head for not recognizing him sooner. Peter grasped the small blanket beneath him, and half crawled, half dragged himself over to his mentor. He didn’t seem fully awake. He had probably been drugged with whatever they had given Peter, and if he was still feeling the effects from it with his enhanced metabolism then there was no way Mr. Stark was going to be-

  
  


“Kid?” Tony croaked out, blinking his eyes and bringing his hands up to rub at them. “Pete?”

  
  


Peter took the blanket, covering Mr. Stark with it as best as he could. If he was this cold, then Mr. Stark had to be too, probably even colder. Peter was enhanced, so things like the cold shouldn’t bother him as much as they would a normal person, right?

  
  


“Yeah, it’s, it’s me. It’s P-Peter.” He cursed himself silently as his voice shook. Whether from the chill now set deep in his bones, or the fear of being stuck in  _ god knows where,  _ he didn’t know. Tony grabbed at his hand, pushing both it and the blanket away from him. He finally seemed to get a good look at Peter, and stared at him in confusion for a moment.

  
  


“Why are you naked?” He asked in a somewhat slurred voice, as he pushed his body into an upright position on the floor. Peter felt heat rush into his cheeks, most likely turning them a deep red.

  
  


“I’m not n- _ naked, _ ” he stuttered, crossing his arms over his chest in both an attempt to cover himself and hopefully provide some warmth to his freezing body. “I’m wearing boxers.”

  
  


And in this cold, dark room, with no obvious way to escape, Tony Stark stifled a laugh. 

  
  


“Okay, I’m sorry,” Tony rubbed his temple, a smile still lingering on his lips. “Why are you in your  _ boxers? _ ”

  
  


Peter suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the man, because they obviously had bigger issues to deal with right now than what he was wearing. Nonetheless, he threw his hands up in the air.

  
  


“I don’t-, I don’t know. I mean, I was wearing the suit and I only wear boxers underneath it, so I guess when they took it off…” Peter’s thought fizzled out, as the meaning of what he himself just said sunk in. Memories, flashes of what had occurred hours ago, or at least he thinks it was just hours ago, flash through his mind. 

  
  


~

  
  


He was patrolling. Just a normal day, the same as any other. He had stopped a car thief, helped a lost little girl with blonde pigtails and a pink patterned dress find her mother, and then stopped atop a random apartment building to eat his lunch. It had been a perfect Saturday for Peter Parker. That was, until he heard the screams.

  
  


They were far away, he could tell that much. Even with his super hearing, he could barely make out the faint sound of a woman, yelling as if her life depended on it. Her voice, aching, begging for help, had to be outside the city. There was no way that Peter could help her in time.

  
  


But he had to try. She needed him. She needed Spider-man.

  
  


His lunch discarded, Peter had jumped to his feet, shooting a web to the closest building. His body was jerked away before he had even enough time to fully stand up. Quicker than it seemed he had even swung before, Spider-man made his way through the bustling streets of Queens. Peter’s arms ached and his shoulders burned from the jerky motion of his swings, but he ignored it. He was moving fast, extremely fast, and that’s all that mattered. Below him, he recognized the familiar sounds of pedestrians gawking and shouting his name.

  
  


“Mom! Mom, look! Look, mom, Spider-man! Mom, c’mon,  _ look,”  _

  
  


“Spidey! Hey, Alex, you see that?”

  
  


Peter took a deep breath, the first he’d taken since leaping off the apartment building. The woman’s screams were becoming louder and easier to hear, to the point where he could tell the exact words she was saying.

  
  


“Help! Somebody help me! Please, I-I don’t want to… please! Let me g-go!”

  
  


His heart jumped into his throat, pulse beating a mile a minute. Peter had never heard anyone sound  _ so  _ scared. 

  
  


So desperate for help.

  
  


“Karen,” Peter asked, alerting his AI. “Can you tell how far away the screaming lady is?”

  
  


He waited a few moments for a response.

  
  


“Based on your usual travel speed, you should be able to reach her in seven minutes and fifteen seconds.”

  
  


The lady seemed to be sobbing and screaming simultaneously, cries separating her words and sentences. He was getting close. She just needed to be okay for a  _ few more seconds- _

  
  


Peter was past the city now, the looming apartments and businesses replaced with two story homes donning minivans and picket fences. Swinging was much more difficult here, as he had to find the tallest tree, the odd house that was three levels high that he could still web to without risking slamming himself into the ground. Occasionally, he would run, when there were no tall surfaces to be seen.

  
  


The woman was a street away. Peter could tell. He didn’t even bother swinging his way there, he just sprinted. Something he didn’t do very often, but he was still amazing at it, better than any 16 year old should be. Anyone with half a brain would assume he was on steroids or some kind of skill enhancing drug. 

  
  


As he rounded the corner onto the street where the woman’s pleas were emitting from, he stopped dead in his tracks. 

  
  


Nothing.

  
  


The street came to a dead end about 50 feet away. There were no houses along the sides of the road, only one ransacked looking building at the end. A house that, 50 years ago maybe, could’ve been beautiful. But now it sat in disuse and despair. 

  
  


The woman’s screams had stopped, but Peter wasn’t turning his back on her now. She could still be alive, she could still need his help. And he was almost positive she was inside that house.

  
  


In an instant, he was at the front door. It was bolted shut, a large “No Trespassing” sign plastered onto the wall beside it. Peter’s head whipped from side to side, looking for an open window or loose siding, some way,  _ any way  _ to get inside. His feet carried him around to the backside of the building, and he sighed with sweet relief when he saw the back door ajar. 

  
  


With silent footsteps, Peter crept into the house. Barely daring to breathe, he listened for any sounds of life. He was met with nothing, but the dull tingle of his spidey-sense alerted to him that there had to be someone in the building. 

  
  


Unfortunately, it occured to Peter too late that the tingle may not be coming from the woman’s captors, but something else.  _ Someone else,  _ entirely. 

  
  


“Karen…”

  
  


His sense spiked, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end in an instant.

  
  


He turned at the last possible second, and just narrowly avoided a knife to his side. His assailant, a man, charged at him again. Arm thrust forward, he towered over Peter, but his large size meant that he was slow and easy to dodge. Even in the tiny hallway he found himself in, Peter was avoiding his attacks almost leisurely. 

 

When he saw an opportunity, Peter shot a web, sticking the man to a wall in what must have once been the house’s living room. Try as he might, the man couldn’t manage to pull himself free. He mumbled something, most likely a curse, but it couldn’t be heard through the webbing covering his mouth. 

  
  


“There never even was a woman, was there?” Peter asked, looking around the room, feigning boredom. “Man, you couldn’t have come up with a more original trap? Or at least stayed near the city, because in all honesty it was a  _ pain  _ in my  _ ass  _ coming all the way out here,”

  
  


Suddenly his spidey sense, which had dulled to a low tingle once again, spiked in alarm. Peter turned, just as quick as he always did, to see a woman standing in the hallway. If it hadn’t been for his split second of hesitation, he would’ve been fine. But his brain, just for a moment, questioned if she was  _ actually  _ a threat.

  
  


‘Hey-”

  
  


Something hard and heavy slammed into the front of his forehead, knocking him to the ground. A groan slipped from his lips, and when he blinked his eyes the world had turned fuzzy. 

  
  


“Peter, it appears that you have suffered a concussion. I recommend retreating from your current fight and resting for the remainder of the day.”

  
  


_ Wouldn’t that be nice,  _ he thought, as he tried and failed to pull himself up to his knees. A blurred figure, obviously the woman, kneeled down in front of him. If he had his sight, Peter would’ve noticed the dark glint in her eyes. Swiftly and smoothly, she hauled a limp Spider-man across the room, before slamming his head into the corned of an old, cracking countertop. 

  
  


And Peter’s world went dark.

  
  


~

  
  


His breaths began coming out in short, sporadic gasps. 

  
  


“Oh my god, I-I was on patrol, and, god, Mr Stark, they m-must’ve took the suit. I am so, so sorry, dammit,” Peter grabbed his hair in frustrated, tears beginning to threaten to spill over his cheeks because  _ he lost the suit.  _

  
  


‘Pete, hey, buddy, it’s all good. I don’t care about the stupid suit, are  _ you _ okay? God, you’re shaking, take the stupid blanket.” Tony threw it off of his lap, wrapping it around Peter’s quivering shoulders. He sniffled, both from the cold and his own emotions. 

  
  


“But, why are you,” Peter took a breath to steady himself. “How are you here? Why are you here?”

  
  


Tony hesitated for a second.

  
  


“I got a text. From you.” Peter seemed confused, and waited for Tony to continue. “Well, god, I feel like an idiot now, but I got a text from you saying that you needed a ride. It said you were at, uh, you girlfriend’s house, AJ?”

  
  


“MJ, and she’s not my girlfriend Mr Stark,”

  
  


“Not important. Anyways, I, like an  _ absolute idiot,  _ didn’t check in on the suit, because I’ve been driving you around a lot lately so this just seemed normal.” Tony bit his lip in apparent frustration. “If I had, i would’ve noticed that something was wrong,” He heaved a heavy sigh and clenched his fists. “I don’t really remember much after I got into the suburbs, so they must’ve grabbed me sometime soon after I got there.”

  
  


Once Tony was done recounting his story, he glanced back at Peter. The boy was about five shades paler than normal, goosebumps sticking up everywhere his skin was showing. He was trying to hide it, but he was shaking like a leaf. 

  
  


“Here, kid, c’mere.” Tony pulled him close, wrapping the blanket further around him and pulling the both of them up again the nearest wall so they could be at least somewhat comfortable. He rubbed his hands up and down Peter’s, trying to warm him up.

  
  


“Aren’t you c-cold?” Peter croaked out amid his teeth chattering. Tony shook his head. There was a slight chill to the room, and the concrete floor wasn’t exactly  _ warm,  _ but it wasn’t cold enough to warrant shivering. 

  
  


It was then that a light went off in Tony’s head.

  
  


“Spiders don’t thermoregulate.” He whispered under his breath. Of course, how had he not realized sooner. This was why the kid was always bundled up in sweaters and coats, even inside his apartment or the compound. Why he almost always had the heater on in the suit, even when it was borderline hot outside.

  
  


“Huh?” Peter mumbled, and Tony pulled him just a little closer.

  
  


“We’ll figure out some way to fix that, when we get back home I’ll cook something up in the lab.” Peter may have spoken out to agree with him, but it was then that a loud slam of metal on metal rang throughout the room, cutting him off. He cringed in discomfort, the already annoying sound being amplified by his enhanced hearing. Peter still had his eyes squeezed shut when a voice echoed through their cell.

  
  


“Up and at em.”

 


	2. You're Safe in my Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm back with chapter two, which i originally thought that I posted last night but I woke up this morning and it wasn't posted? No clue what happened there, but she's here now :)  
> This one's a little shorter, but I'm planning on chapter three being a long one so it'll even out.

 

Peter opened his eyes to see a man in a dark grey suit staring down at him. A mop of somewhat greasy black hair sat on his head, and his dark eyes shone with a glint of something he couldn’t quite place.

  
  


Later, he would realize that it was malice.

  
  


Mr Stark pulled Peter’s body closer to his own, shielding him from the man as best he could. Involuntarily, Peter began to shiver harder, if that were even possible. 

  
  


“Up,” the man repeated, and both Peter and Tony tensed. “Do you know basic English? Stand  _ up.  _ On your feet.” When neither of them moved after a few timeless seconds, he yelled, the vicious look in his eyes magnifying tenfold.  

  
  


“ _ Now!” _

  
  


In a hurry, Tony stood, practically dragging Peter with him. He shook on wobbly legs, but managed to keep himself upright as Mr Stark moved to stand completely in front of him. It was to protect him, he knew. As if Tony Stark were the one with super powers and enhanced abilities, not Peter Parker. 

  
  


However, despite all of that, Peter had never felt more powerless. He pulled the thin blanket tighter around his shoulders, praying that somehow, someway,  _ Tony would fix this.  _

  
  


“So what is it this time,” Tony spoke without a waver in his voice. “Money? It’s usually money. Oh, you want a weapon? A missile? A super-gun? Might as well just spit it out now so we can all get on with this.” While his voice may have made him sound confident, Peter knew the man well enough to know otherwise. His hands, which were clasped behind his back, were shaking slightly. His fingernails were pressing so hard into his palms that Peter was sure they would leave marks, if not draw blood. 

  
  


“You see, Mr Stark,” the man in the suit placed his hands behind his back, mimicking Tony’s position. “There’s a slight problem. You can’t give me, or anyone who stands with me, what we want. That’s why you’re  _ here. _ ” 

  
  


Tony took a shallow, wheezing breath.

  
  


“Alright, well try me. What do you want?”

  
  


“My daughter.” The suit man spoke without skipping a beat. “I want my daughter back. And Addison, the lovely lady Mr Parker ran into,” he flashed a sickening smile at Peter, who recoiled on impact. “Wants her brother.” 

  
  


Tony was starting to understand where the man was going, what he wanted, but didn’t get an opportunity to speak. 

  
  


“I could go on and on, really.” He began pacing back and forth, left to right, in their tiny cell. “Caleb, one of my closest friends, never got to say goodbye to his father. Damian just wants to hold his twins one last time.” He stopped pacing to stare Tony right in the eye. “But he can’t.” 

  
  


There was barely an space between the man’s face and Tony’s. Even from a distance, he would’ve been able to see the guilt and self-hatred brewing in Tony Stark’s eyes. 

  
  


Because try as he might, Iron Man really couldn’t save everyone, and he knew it. And Tony hated himself for it. It plagued him more than anything else - more than the wormhole, or even Afghanistan. He knew that while there were people grateful to Iron Man for saving them and their loved ones, there were just as many, if not more, calling for his blood. Either he hadn’t gotten to them in time, or a building had came down mid battle with civilians still stuck inside as he watched in timeless horror as it fell-

  
  


“He does his best,” Peter spoke up, stumbling forwards so that he stood beside Tony. “If it weren’t for Iron Man, millions of people would be dead. Y-you can’t expect him to save everyone, but he  _ does his best. _ ” 

  
  


Under his breath, Tony cursed.

  
  


“Kid, stop  _ talking. _ ”

  
  


The man in the suit took a step backwards, as if to better survey Peter. He looked him over, from the chestnut curls sitting atop his head down to his bare feet resting on the cold concrete. In an attempt to look and feel less like a child, Peter crossed his arms over his chest. The blanket fell off of his shoulders, and immediately the chill in the room worsened. 

  
  


“Well, Mr Parker,” the man stated, and simultaneously the metal door behind him opened up. Four men donning Kevlar and handguns entered, and closed it behind them. “If you really believe that Tony Stark is so  _ amazing,  _ let’s give him a chance to redeem himself.”

  
  


The men moved closer to the captives, one on each side of them. With a nod from the man who seemed to be in charge, they grabbed hold of both Tony and Peter’s biceps. A yelp escaped from Peter’s mouth on contact, and his fear only intensified when he realized that his head was still fuzzy and he had no sense of his superior strength. He struggled helplessly against the men who were easily twice his size.

  
  


Tony, on the other hand, didn’t struggle nearly as hard. He was just trying to keep Peter in him line of sight, but he made his feelings perfectly clear with his voice.

  
  


“Peter! Get your fucking hands off of him! If you touch a  _ hair _ on his head I swear to  _ God _ -”

  
  


“Now, now, calm down. No one  _ should  _ be hurting anyone.” The suited man clasped his hands together. “That’s the entire point here, don't you see? I’m allowing you to  _ prove  _ yourself Tony. You couldn’t save so many people, like… my daughter,” he shrugged. “But maybe you can save your mentee.”

  
  


Tony had been focusing on the man as he spoke, but now he snapped his neck to look back at Peter. He was pale, shaking, and terrified, but underneath all of that there was so much underlying hope and belief. He put all of his faith in Tony. 

  
  


He trusted Tony to keep him safe. 

  
  


“It’ll be fine,” he assured him, and Peter nodded quickly. “I’ll figure this out, I promise.” 

  
  


With that, Peter was jerked harshly towards the open door. For the first time, Tony truly began to struggle, just trying to get to him. His view of Peter was cut off when he was dragged around a corner in the hallway outside of their cell, and the man in the suit stepped in front of him.

  
  


“You two will be reunited soon enough, but for now, you’ll be easier to transport if you’re…  _ unresponsive,  _ shall we say.” With a smile that only moved the left half of his mouth and didn’t reach his eyes at all, the man pulled a syringe from his breast pocket. Inside, a clear, blue-tinted liquid swirled menacingly, if it were even possible for an inanimate object to do so. Tony jerked in his captor’s hold, but in his heart he knew it was useless. The needle was brought to the surface of his forearm, the inner part of his elbow, before the man hesitated.

  
  


“Just in case you were wondering,” he plunged the syringe into Tony’s arm without warning, but he didn’t flinch in the slightest. “My name is Mason. Just letting you know. Mason Deslauriers.” 

  
  


As soon as the words slipped off of his tongue, dread filled Tony’s body. He didn’t know the man, had never even heard of him. But when your kidnapper told you their name, it was normally because they weren’t planning on ever letting you go. Which meant that this actually  _ wasn’t _ about money, or weapons, or fame. And on top of all that, it wasn’t even just him that was in deep shit now.

  
  


They had Peter too.

  
  


These thoughts filled his head as the hands on his arms released him, and he dropped to the floor like dead weight. Whatever Mason had given him must've been extremely strong, because already he didn’t have enough energy to utilize his own muscles. His eyelids were becoming heavy against his will, and he slowly slipped into unconsciousness.

  
  


During his last waking moments, he heard the man wish him good luck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! I wanted to get this out before Christmas, and I was also planing on doing a Christmas fic but it didn't really turn out how I wanted. I'll probably change a bit of it and post just a one-shot or something in a few weeks.  
> Also, chapter three is where the Peter whump comes in so get ready lolol.  
> ~  
> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!


	3. don't let go, keep a hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaaaack
> 
> okok so I'm super sorry I've been MIA for like 4 months, I got busy with school and other stuff and totally just spaced on this  
> But anyways, here's the third chapter!! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> ~ S

 

Tony peeled his eyes open, blinking them repeatedly to try and get rid of the black masses crowding his vision. Although, it was hard to tell them from the shadows covering most of the room he was in. The only source of light was a dim, dingy light bulb hung against the wall farthest from him. In between the light and him was about 20 feet, if he had to guess, and about half of that distance in front of him sat a large table. A cloth of some sort was thrown over it, hiding the lumps he could see that were probably instruments of torture. 

  
  


Now that his vision seemed somewhat normal and he was more aware of his surroundings, Tony got to his feet.

  
  


Or, he tried to.

  
  


He was barely to his knees when he was jerked to a sudden halt, his shoulders protesting in agony. He was startled to see that, when he looked down at his hands, they were cuffed and chained to the wall behind him. Tony gave them a pull for good measure, but he didn’t expect them to move. 

  
  


And they didn’t. 

  
  


He called the chains a name that would make even the lunatics keeping them captive scowl, and plopped himself back into a sitting position as best he could. It was still awkward and uncomfortable; the chains were too short and chained too high. His arms were constantly being pulled either up or behind him. 

  
  


Tony sat in silence for a while, contemplating how the  _ hell  _ he was going to get himself out of these chains and  _ get to Peter.  _ That was all that mattered. He was accepting of whatever would become of him, he already had it in his mind that he probably wasn’t getting out of this prison alive. But Peter  _ had  _ to. Queen’s needed their Spider-Man to look out for the little guy. May needed her nephew to come home for a dinner that would probably end up burning their cluttered kitchen down. Ned needed his best friend to sit at their lunch table with him and listen to his nerd rants and build lego with him. Tony needed Peter to live.

  
  


A light flashed on, illuminating the whole room and nearly blinding Tony. He covered his face, albeit, only somewhat, what with his restricted movement capabilities and whatnot. A faint chuckle came from a figure standing in the doorway, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who it was from.

  
  


“Mason,” Tony spoke before even looking at the man. “Just the guy I was looking for. How are you, how are you doing?” He rambled, his every thought spewing out, just trying to buy himself the slightest bit of time to come up with a plan. 

  
  


Mason didn’t speak at all, just walked a few steps forward. Tony finally glanced up at him, but was more taken aback by the table than the man. Now, in the light, the bumps under the sheet didn’t look like knives or guns or even anything worse than those. This was much too long, too oddly shaped. It was-

  
  


_ That's a body. _

  
  


Tony’s mind went blank with sheer, uncontrollable fear. He knew what a body looked like, and that’s what was laying on that table.

  
  


_ Not Peter, please, please,  _ please,  _ not Peter. _

  
  


The one thing Tony had been counting on was that Peter wasn’t here. He wasn’t in this little torture-chamber of a room, and he wasn’t the one who was going to get hurt.

  
  


_ But there he is,  _ the little voice in the back of Tony’s mind whispered to him. Because, really, who else would it be. They didn’t have anyone else that Tony cared about to use against him, and frankly, there wasn’t anyone he cared for more than the kid. 

  
  


Breaking the icy silence that had fallen over the room, Mason pulled the sheet off the table with a sharp tug. Underneath, Peter lay still.

  
  


Tony relaxed in the slightest, because at least he was alive. He could see the faint, yet present, rising and falling of his chest. Upon inspection of the rest of the boy, Tony could tell he put up a bit of a fight between the time he was taken out of their cell and brought into the new room. His nose was bloodied, and also looked possibly broken. Above that, one of his eyes was surrounded in purple and green bruising, and a nasty cut on his forehead was still slightly leaking blood. 

  
  


Even though Tony had prepared himself for much,  _ much  _ worse, he was still furious.

  
  


“What the  _ hell  _ did you do to him,” Tony’s voice was deathly calm. “He’s a  _ kid. He’s fifteen! _ ”

  
  


Mason spread his hands in an unknowing gesture.

  
  


“He’s also Spider-Man. I’m pretty sure he’s had it worse.” Mason walked with his hands behind his back to the front of the table, so that there was nothing between him and Tony. “The kid also doesn't take orders well. I told him if he just  _ cooperated  _ he wouldn’t be hurt. Believe it or not, I don’t  _ enjoy  _ hurting children.”

  
  


Tony scoffed. 

  
  


“Oh yeah, obviously. It’s not like you  _ kidnapped  _ him or anything.”

  
  


Mason walked closer to Tony, closing the space between them until there was only a few inches separating the two men. 

  
  


“None of this,” Tony stared into his eyes the entire time the other man spoke, and with their proximity to each other, could smell the cigarette he had obviously just smoked on his breath. “Is about him. This is about you, Tony Stark, and evening the score.” 

  
  


Mason backed up, returning to his place at the table. With a gentle finger, he traced the outline of Peter's face, almost as if he were admiring him. Tony jerked in his restraints, muttering under his breath as he did so. 

  
  


“He looks so much younger when he’s sleeping,” Mason began, walking around the table as he looked over the boy. Tony’s blood continued to boil beneath his skin, his thoughts a never ending spiral of the same thoughts.

  
  


_ Don’t touch him; he’s a kid; let him go; don’t lay a hand on him… _

  
  


“But, enough is enough.” He laid a hand on the side of Peter’s face, an obvious act of feigned sympathy. It snaked up into his curls, the edges of which were wet with his own blood. In what to a stranger might have looked like a loving gesture, Mason wiped the cut on Peter’s forehead, smearing red over his brow. 

  
  


Tony was about to open his mouth with another remark when Mason gripped Peter’s hair, and in an instant slammed the back of his skull into the hard metal table. An echoing thunk reverberated around the room, and it was immediately followed by a low groan from Peter as he stirred.  

  
  


“What the  _ hell? _ ” Tony yelled, pulling himself to his knees again despite his discomfort. “What happened to your ‘ _ I don’t like hurting kids’  _ bullshit?” 

  
  


Mason shrugged. 

  
  


“I don’t enjoy it, but it was unavoidable.” 

  
  


“Dude,” Peter slurred from his place on the table. Tony immediately turned all of his attention to him, praying that the unusual speech was just from drowsiness and not a head injury. “You could’ve just, like, set an alarm. You know, ‘m not that hard to wake up.” Peter repeatedly blinked his eyes, widening them slightly when he realized he was tightly restrained. 

  
  


“On the contrary, it was  _ quite _ necessary.” Mason spoke up, and walked over to a table set off a few feet to the right. He began picking through items that were out of Tony’s sight, but he could already tell it was nothing good. “We had no idea about the extent of your abilities. And, frankly, we still don’t. Judging by how quickly you burned through the sedatives we gave you, I’m guessing you have an extremely enhanced metabolism. Also, since you seemed shocked concerning the restraints, I’m going to assume you have superior strength as well.”

  
  


Peter just stared, wide eyed. Mason made his way back over to the table, and leaned down so that he was level with Peter’s head. Involuntarily, he flinched in the slightest. A small smirk made its way onto Mason’s face as he whispered to Peter.

  
  


“They’re vibranium, just so you know.”

  
  


Peter gave one more pull against the restraints, but they didn’t budge in the slightest. He turned his head over towards Tony, and despite the snark he had put into his voice just moments ago, he was obviously terrified. Despite all of his time as Spider-man, all of his time on missions with Tony and the Avengers, he had never been in trouble like this before. There was always a way out, or someone who knew where they were. But here, in this cold, concrete room, there seemed to be no hope to be found. 

  
  


“It’s okay,” Tony whispered, so quietly he could barely hear it himself. He knew, though, that Peter’s enhanced hearing picked it up. “You’ll be okay.”

  
  


Peter mouthed something back to avoid Mason hearing him, but Tony shook his head slowly when he couldn’t decipher the exact words. Peter’s eyes flickered over to the man behind him, and when he noticed that Mason was making his way back over to the table, he spoke.

  
  


“ _ We’ll _ be okay,” he corrected Tony, his tone rushed and scared. 

  
  


“ _ You’re  _ reassuring  _ him? _ ” Mason mocked, placing his hands on the edge of Peter’s table. “ _ Seriously? _ ”

  
  


Neither Peter nor Tony spoke. They kept their eyes locked on eachother, and Tony made sure to pour as much emotion as he could into that one stare. 

  
  


“There’s not really much you can do here,  _ Pete, _ ” Tony cringed at the use of Peter’s nickname. He pulled himself once again against his chains, tearing his eyes away from the boy in the process. “So lets hope, for your sake, that Tony here can pull himself together.”

  
  


Mason raised his right hand, and Tony finally realized what he had spent so long picking out. A silver-handled knife twirled between his fingers, the blade at least 10 inches long. Peter, despite his best efforts to remain stoic, had a look of pure fear plastered all over his face. As Spider-man, knives were no big deal. Even as Peter Parker, he had his strength and speed at his disposal if he really needed them. But here, right now, he was more helpless than he’d ever felt before. No suit, no powers, not even his arms to defend himself. 

  
  


He turned back to Tony, and his time he knew immediately the words rolling off of his lips. 

  
  


_ We’ll be okay. _

  
  


Tony wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure anymore - his mentor or himself.

  
  


“So,” Mason gripped the knife more appropriately in his palm. “If you’re really such a hero,  _ Mr. Stark,”  _ He traced the tip of the blade over Peter’s chest, just barley grazing his skin. “Save  _ your kid.” _

  
  


In a movement that almost seemed too fast to be human, Mason raised the knife, before sinking it hilt-deep into Peter’s abdomen.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this was decent, the real action is next chapter, which should be up hopefully before next weekend.  
> Also, everyone has been leavening so many comments and they honestly make my day! If there's anything you would wanna see in this fic or another then just lemme know :)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> ~ S

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave me a comment if you want :)  
> Also I really wanna post a Christmas fic before the 25th, so it'll probably be up sometime this weekend!


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